Punishable by Death
by lostinthememories
Summary: "Stealing is punishable by death," I hear a voice tell me pointedly. Twoshot, pre-THG.
1. Catnip

**Disclaimer: I can write Everthorne too ;) I actually wrote this a couple years ago, and decided to revisit it and make some changes. It is very short but I hope you like it. xo (There's some direct THG quotes in here. I don't own them, Suzanne Collins does.)**

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I approach the fence with caution. It looks so evil, so confining, so dark. Although I know it's not on, as I can tell from the dead silence it emits and not the buzzing hum of life it should give off, I'm still distrustful. Finally I realize this is what keeps us from starving and slip underneath it with as much confidence as I can manage.

The woods. I take a deep breath. It's beautiful here. _Katniss, don't go,_ the voice of my seven-year-old sister Prim flashes back into my mind. _We can make do somehow, without you risking your life in the woods._ "No, we can't," I had told her. And we can't.

Ever since my father died, I've been taking care of my family. My mother has slipped into depression that nothing can fix. It's as if she believes if my father will come back to life, out of the mines that killed him, if she stays quiet and indifferent for as long as she can. And that's quite a while. It's been months now, and we've nearly starved. So I hunt.

I walk deep into the trees til something catches my eye: a snare, wrapped around the leg of a fat grey rabbit. I gasp quietly; whoever made this is an expert in their craft. I envy the steely perfection of it. I could only dream of creating a trap like this.

"Stealing is punishable by death," I hear a voice tell me pointedly.

I spin around. A boy with dark hair and grey eyes like mine, who must be a full foot taller, approaches me.

"I - I wasn't stealing it. Just looking at it. Mine never catch anything."

He starts to nod skeptically, but his eyes drift towards my bow. He looks somewhat taken aback. "Can I see that?" he asks.

"Sure," I say as I hand it to him. "Just remember, stealing is punishable by death."

He gives the smallest hint of a smile as he takes it and examines it. "Where'd you get this?" he asks.

"My father made it," I tell him. "But I only have this. My snares, like I said," I sigh, "never catch anything." He stands there indifferently. "But if you could teach me how to make a good snare I could get you a bow," I say to him.

He almost laughs. "How old are you, anyway? What's your name?"

"Katniss," I mumble quietly, so quietly I doubt he heard me. "I'm...I'm eleven."

"Okay, Catnip. Here's the deal -"

"It's _Katniss,_" I say louder.

"Katniss," he says with an idignant sigh, "we can try working something out, I suppose. I'm Gale, by the way."

_Gale._ Why do I recognize the name? No, it's not the name - it's the face. I've seen it. Not just at school - somewhere else. "The Justice Building," I stammer quietly. "Your father -"

"The mines," he whispers. "I remember you now."

"Kinda hard to forget someone named Catnip, don't you think?" I say, laughing a little.

"Not for me, I guess," the corner of his lip raises in some sort of half-smile. "See you tomorrow? Dawn?"

"Sounds good," I say.

"Alright, Catnip." Then he simply vanishes into the giant mass of leaves, without making a single sound.


	2. The Boy with the Bread

_**a/n: An unexpected part two where, a few months later, Katniss tells Gale of the boy with the bread. I tried to make it canon. Hope you like it :)**_

Gale's hands are the first thing I see through the greenery. I knew full well he'd be here, like he always is, but this time feels different. Guilt weighs at the back of my mind as insecurity gnaws at the front of it; I swallow thickly and my head spins when I catch his eye.

"Catnip," he smiles for maybe the third time I've ever seen him do so. It's only been a couple months since Gale and I began to hunt together, and some awkwardness is still there. Part of it is due to the fact that Gale is all parts a man and I'm still a girl, sharp angles and bones and tiny proportions. Being with Gale has awakened something in me that I'd always been ashamed to embrace, the way my cheeks grow hot when he wraps his arms around me from behind to help me tie a snare, the way I shudder with delight when his lips are near my ear. One time he reached over and brushed a lock of my dark hair from my forehead, and I forgot how to breathe.

I block my mind from further thoughts as the guilt begins to make its way forward through my complicated ensemble of thoughts. Surely he'd never feel the same way about me, especially because I've been so weak.

"Hey," I say, my voice wavering, catching at the last sound. "Catch anything?"

He looks up at me and shakes his head blankly, his steely eyes murky with confusion. He stands up and places a hand on my shoulder. "You okay?" he asks softly.

"Of course," I snap, turning away. "Of course I am."

"Katniss," his voice is so soft it almost startles me. He rarely calls me by my given name. "Katniss, talk to me."

"I gave _in,_" I sniffle, blinking back tears that send wires of pain down my cheeks and into my nose. "I'm strong and I'm able to do things for myself, Gale! And I didn't!"

"Hey," he turns me around, gripping me firmly by the shoulders. "You know you can tell me what you're thinking."

"It was cold outside," I begin, my voice watery. "It was cold and it was raining and Prim and I, we were so_ hungry._" I notice Gale's jaw clench, but he doesn't say a word. "So I went into town and I tried selling some of our things and no one wanted them so I -" by this time tears are dripping down my cheeks, and I can feel my skin tighten.

"Katniss," Gale's voice is chipped with sadness, "you didn't go to Cray, did you?"

_"No!"_ I shout, swatting his hand away from my face. "No," I sob, again, "what kind of person do you think I _am?_"

"I wouldn't think any less of you," he says quietly, and I ignore it. "Anyway," I take a deep breath. "Anyway, I was looking in the t-trash bins at the bakery for something, _anything._" I hear him sigh. "And th-then Mrs. Mellark, sh-she started screaming at me."

I turn to look at him, and he nods me forward. "So I...I sat down by some trees. It was cold, it was raining _so hard._" I shiver. "I gave _up,_ Gale. I could have died there, I was so _weak._"

"You're still here," he prods gently. "Katniss, I don't see what the problem is."

"The Mellark boy," I sniffle. "What's his name?"

"Peeta," Gale spits, a little bitterly.

"You look like you just ate something sour," I roll my sore eyes. "He saved my life, Gale."

At this he looks slightly surprised. "The baker kid? How in the hell did he manage that?"

"The _baker kid,_" I shoot Gale a _look,_ "burned bread for me."

He sighs. "Elaborate."

"I think he did it on purpose," my voice grows quiet. "He bakes it with his mom. And I think he saw me out there, or heard her yelling at me, because all of a sudden he's got these black loaves of bread and he's tossing them to me in the pouring rain. They were still warm. He had a mark on his face."

Gale kicks at a pebble on the ground, his arms crossed, expression unreadable. "Do you hate him or something?" I ask, annoyed.

"No," Gale's eyes flicker up at me.

"Then why are you acting like that?" There's an unproductive pause when I nervously ask, "Should I have not taken it?"

"It's pretty damn good that you did, Katniss," Gale starts to walk deeper into the trees. "But he took a beating for you. He fed you. Now you owe him." He swallows so thickly I can hear it, and then averts my gaze again. I have to repeat his name a few more times before he whispers, "I think he likes you."

I feel an ice-cold rush make its way through my body. "Why would - why would that matter?" I choke out.

"No reason," Gale's voice is suddenly louder and more assured. "We came here to hunt, didn't we?"

"Yeah," I breathe shakily. "Yeah, we did."


End file.
